The Encounter

by Norman Fitts

  The two Bounty Hunters were still having their difference of opinion. A corona began to form around Margaret's ship as her shields came on line. The small ship lifted off.

  This was hastily pointed out. The Leader said something in a loud, cursing tone and fired his weapon. The shell exploded on the energy field forming around the little ship. The partially formed shield had a filtering effect; it wasn't enough to prevent some of the destructive power of the weapon from reaching the ship as it accelerated away from the surface.

  The argument had been about the salvage value of Margaret's ship. Now, the ship and the female were both gone.

  The Leader didn't mince words. He turned and fired. For an instant the large Bounty Hunter's mouth still moved, but he had no lungs to power his vocal cords.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The ship shook violently from side to side. Lawrence grabbed at the wall to keep from falling.

  Margaret quickly glanced over her shoulder. "Get in the seat. Hurry I can’t maneuver with you standing."

  He started for the seat. The ship jerked again. He managed to grab the seat back to steady himself.

  She was having trouble. That much, he could tell. He took the seat. It changed its shape to conform to his body. He looked at the controls. They were just patterns on a flat surface. He leaned forward for a better look. The ship jerked again. He grabbed the console. Controls lit up around his hand.

  "Don't touch anything!" She was breathlessly. "I'm having enough trouble on my own."

  He leaned back. "What trouble?"

  "I’m loosing power. I'm gonna have to shut us down."

  There was a trace of panic in his voice. "Is this thing gonna blow up or something?"

  She glanced at him. "I certainly hope not. I can’t transition out. The portal... We have a chance if I can make the portal.”

  “Portal? What’s a portal?”

  “A tear in the fabric of space.”

  “A tear.” He looked at the forward monitor. “I don’t see anything.”

  The monitor was filled with nothing but black. A slight ripple came and went.

  She glanced at him. “When we penetrate the boundary things are gonna seem a little strange.”

  “Compared to what?”

  The little ship streaked away from the planet. It was trailing a particle stream from the right side. It made a tight left turn and disappeared. The bounty hunter’s mother ship de-cloaked to empty space. It was too large to pass through the tear.

  The interior blurred for a second, and then returned to normal. Lawrence shook off the effect. She moved her hands to a different part of the console. The ride seemed to smooth out. She looked back to the gibberish flashing on and off the two displays. She made one final adjustment, leaned back in her seat, and looked at him.

  "Well?" He asked.

  She raised her hand, apparently waiting for something to happen. The entire cabin jolted raising Lawrence out of his seat.

  The ship came down at an angle tearing away the tops of the trees. It slammed into the ground throwing up dirt, rocks and debris and then slid to an abrupt halt on the forest floor. Despite its violent impact with the ground the shield kept the hull intact.

  She let out her breath. "We made it."

  She stood up. Her seat returned to its neutral shape.

  He watched her. "We made it where?"

  She walked across the control room toward the passage leading to the hatch.

  He got up and followed her. "We made it, where? Your place or mine?"

  She paused and waited on him. "This thing's fast, but it ain't that fast. Wyoming..."

  He wasn't sure he heard her right. "Wyoming?"

  "Come on, let's have a look outside."

  "You did say, Wyoming?"

  "Yes..." punctuating the answer. She stepped in front of the hatch. An opening appeared in the wall.

  "How do you do that?" He asked.

  "Magic”, she answered.

  It was dark outside. She stepped down. Lawrence followed her.

  It was night. The moon was three quarters full. They walked a few feet away from the ship, staying in the light from the open hatch. There were trees everywhere. The cover was so thick not much of the moonlight penetrated the darkness in front of them. The ground sloped gradually away. There were night sounds all around them.

  She was looking around. "Well, you wanted a trip to the mountains."

  "Yeah, well..." He looked around at the ship and jumped. The light from the opening was suspended in mid air. He walked back to the hatch and touched what should have been the hull. He moved his hand along the skin. He could feel it, but he couldn't see it. Even this close he couldn't tell there was anything there. He looked back. "This is fantastic. I don't suppose you'll tell me how this works either?"

  She started back to the hatch. "We better get back inside before someone sees the light."

  He glanced around. "Who? A bear..."

  She rubbed her arms with her hands. The truth was, she was freezing in the cool, night air. He followed her back in. The hatch closed and as far as the world was concerned there was nothing there.

  They walked back into the control room. He stopped just inside the entrance.

  "What's wrong with the ship? He asked. "What happened back at the house?"

  She paused, and then faced him. "Well, we absorbed an energy discharge from one of their weapons. Some of the navigational and propulsion systems were damaged. To put it simply, they broke it."

  "But you can fix it? Right?" Surely she could fix it, he thought.

  "Me? Not a chance."

  "Wait a minute, what’s wrong with this picture? You memorized fifty years of legal reference that means nothing to you, but you’ve never looked at the owners manual for the ride that got you here?"

  "How about, I fly it I didn’t build it. Not much we can do, but wait. I was supposed to meet someone. When I don't show up, they'll come looking for me.

  “It’s a big planet.”

  “Not that big”, she answered. “We left a particle trail all the way down. They’ll find us.”

  "Won't that help the bad guys too?"

  "Yes, that's why we can't stay with the ship."

  He glanced back at the hatch. "How did they find you the last time?"

  She started toward a control cluster on the wall. “I’m guessing they located my com-link.”

  “You can turn that off, right?”

  "It is off but I give off a completely different bio-signature." She stopped at the wall. "As soon as they determine where in”, she hesitated, where we are, they'll run a bio-scan of the area. What's the phrase? I'll stand out like a sore thumb."

  She turned to the panel on the wall and keyed in something. Lawrence watched a section of floor in front of her transform itself into two side-by-side pallets, each about a foot thick.

  She looked at him. "You want a pillow?"

  He was still looking at the pallets. "Yeah, sure."

  She walked over to the replicater controls. He walked over to one of the pallets and sat on it. It conformed to his butt much the same as the seat. He bounced and pushed at it with his hands. She watched him playing like a kid. For the moment she was just glad he hadn't noticed the time. It had gone from noon, to night, in a matter of minutes.

  She keyed in a series of codes, and then spoke into the panel. "A pillow, king size... wait..." She looked at him. "You allergic to feathers?"

  "No. Why?"

  She looked back at the panel. "Down..."

  A moment later an opening appeared. A flat tray moved out with a pillow on it. She picked it up and tossed it to him. He caught it.

  "Do another one and we can have a pillow fight." He said, playfully.

  "I don't use one. Why would I want to fight with you?" Her tone was much too serious.

  "Lighten up. I was just joking. Besides, pillow fighting isn't really fighting. I thought you were up on stuff like that."

  She touched a place on the wall. T
he tray slid back and the opening disappeared. She walked across the room to the other pallet. The thought of sleeping next to him was uncomfortable for her. He was talking about pillow fights. She was sure certain other thoughts had crossed his mind as well.

  “A lot has happened today”, she said. Let’s get some rest. We'll figure something out."

  He started taking off his shoes. "What's to figure out? There's bound to be a ranger station, a road or something. And if these guys could show up any minute, you think it’s a good idea to take a nap?"

  She knew it would take the Vergon a while to track her down. “We’re not gonna get very far stumbling around in the dark.” She needed time to think things through. It would be a risk she would have to take.

  She slipped out of her flight suit. Under it was a one piece, skin tight, under garment that left nothing, but skin tone, to the imagination.

  He lost his train of thought. "Ah, yeah... We'll find a town. I'll get cash from an ATM and we're on our way?"

  She raised her voice. "Bring the lights down." The lights dimmed in the cabin.

  She stretched out on the pallet. "Get some rest." She said, as she rolled onto her side away from him.

  "This thing responses to English?"

  "It does now. Go to sleep."

  He stretched out on his back and looked around. The pallet wasn't bad, but he wasn't really sleepy. He suddenly remembered why. It was the middle of the day or it should have been.

  He rose up on one elbow. "Hey, how come it got dark so quick?"

  She didn't answer. He watched her for a moment. She didn't move. Maybe it had something to do with the ship. A lot of strange things had happened since breakfast. She was asleep or ignoring him probably the latter. He lay back down and closed his eyes.

  She wasn't asleep. She just hadn't felt like dealing with the truth just yet. The truth was, there weren't any ATM’s or ranger stations in Wyoming, in eighteen seventy-five.

  ***

  Lawrence slept for a couple of hours. The warm room temperature woke him up. He was soaked. He sat up. Margaret was on her back. He watched her for a moment. She looked like she was comfortable. He was too warm. He eased off the pallet and stood for a moment wondering where the thermostat was.

  He remembered the computer. "Hey computer..." He said quietly. "Computer... If you're there, lower the temperature about ten degrees."

  It didn't answer and he couldn't tell if it did anything. It was still warm. He looked back at her. She hadn't moved. He looked at his watch. It read, 2:30 pm. How could it be dark outside? If anything, Wyoming was an hour earlier. He thought about waking her up to talk about it, then decided against it. God, how could she sleep with it so warm?

  He slipped off his shirt. By human standards he was in pretty good shape and looked it. In her hands he'd been little more than a child. He dropped the shirt and slipped out of his pants. That helped some. She rolled on her side, facing him. Her eyes never opened. He lay back down and watched her for a moment. He wished she'd wake up so they could talk. That apparently wasn't going to happen. He rolled away from her and tried to go back to sleep.

  She opened her eyes and watched his back. What was she going to do? For the first time in her life she was really frightened. It wasn't a good feeling.

  ***

  What woke Lawrence this time was movement in the cabin. He opened his eyes, rolled on his back and glanced around. Margaret was gone. There was light coming down the passageway leading to the open hatch. He sat up and looked for his clothes. They were gone. In their place was a pair of rough-cut cotton pants, a shirt to match and a leather belt. On top of all of it was a pair of Long Johns.

  He moved the Long Johns and picked up the shirt. What the hell was all this, he thought? At the foot of the pallet in the place of his shoes sat a pair of soft leather boots.

  "Where are you", He yelled? What the hell was she up to now. "What've you done with my clothes”?

  Her voice came from outside. "Out here."

  He dropped the shirt, picked up the pants and slipped them on. Enough was enough. It was time for some answers.

  Lawrence stepped into the hatchway wearing just the pants. She was squatting down facing away watching the woods. Her clothing was similar.

  "You wanta tell me what the hell's really goin' on?" He looked at his watch. It read, 8:22 pm. "What's happened to the time? How'd we lose twelve hours?

  Margaret hadn't moved. "I wish twelve hours was all we lost."

  "What is that suppose to mean?"

  She stood and walked toward him. "I don't know another way to say this." She stopped in front of him. "One of the things that makes your planetary system so special is that tear I took us through. Simply put, it folds time. It acts as a gateway to the past.”

  He had to laugh at that one. Then his face became very serious. “Get real.”

  Her face said she was dead serious.

  “The past. You’re talking time travel? You can travel through time?”

  “It was the only choice. This ship was outclassed and out gunned.”

  There was a little quake in his voice. “How far, a week, a month, a year?” He looked at what she was wearing, “a hundred years?”

  She hesitated. "About a hundred and twenty-two, more or less."

  "A hundred... More or less." His mind went blank for a second. He slowly sat down in the hatchway. For a moment nobody said anything. "You're telling me, we're stuck here and you can't fix it. What do you usually do when you can't fix it? Call the intergalactic Triple A."

  "I'm sorry, this has never happened to me before."

  He got to his feet. "I drive a car, but I know how to change a tire." His frustration was showing. "Why is it, women never know how to change a tire?"

  She was becoming a little pissed herself. After all, none of this was her fault. Well, almost none of it. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I can't stay here. You certainly can't stay here. Right now there's just nothing we can do about it."

  He turned and walked back inside.

  She followed him. “Incidentally I can change a tire.”

  Lawrence walked to his pallet and sat down. She went to the replicater.

  He picked up the long underwear. "What time of year is it?" He asked.

  "March eighteenth", she answered. "Why?"

  "Just wondering if I need the long underwear." He stood up and started taking his pants off.

  She punched in something on the panel, and then watched him change his underwear. His butt was almost as white as hers.

  He looked back. "You mind?"

  She smiled and faced the panel. She'd asked the replicater for something. He couldn't make out what it was. At least the sizes were right. He continued to dress.

  The replicater opened. She took out what she'd requested and turned around. He was buttoning the shirt. He looked at her. She was holding a handgun and a box of cartridges.

  He tucked the shirt in. "What's that for?

  She walked toward him. "This is a pretty wild time in your history. I thought we might need something for protection. Can you use this?"

  He took the gun from her. She sat the box down. He eased the hammer back, opened the breach and spun the cylinder. It was empty. "A colt 44-40. Not much range. What about a gun belt?”

  “Okay.” She moved back over to the replicater.

  “Something a little newer than what they used in this day and time.”

  She spoke to the replicater and it produced a modern day holster and gun belt. She handed them to him.

  She was about to caution him that just being here was risky. Taking a life could change Earth's history forever even threaten his very existence. She relaxed a little, when he brought it up on his own.

  "You know what happens if we do anything that changes the future?" He holstered the gun. "One of us could be in a lotta trouble."

  "I know. It's risky for both of us. We need to avoid trouble if we can."

  "How could changing my pa
st affect you?"

  "Think about it. You might not be there to rescue me."

  She had a point.

  She sat on her pallet, pulled a large bag in front of her and began rummaging around inside it. Lawrence began strapping on the gun belt. He walked back to his pallet.

  "What are you packin' ma'am", he ask, putting down the box?

  She looked up and said, "Nothing. It's already packed."

  He smiled and began tying down the holster. "No, I meant, are you armed?"

  She reached into the bag and brought out a weapon similar to the one carried by the Bounty Hunters.

  "Well, it's nice to know one of us is hi-tech." He began pulling on his boots.

  Margaret returned the weapon and pulled out another device. She activated it. A map projected into the air above them. "There's a town about twelve miles northeast of here."

  "I thought we needed to avoid people."

  "We need supplies. More than we can carry from here. There's no telling how long this is gonna take. We'll get what we need, then head up into the mountains."

  He was ready. She turned the map off and put it away. "Go outside." She said. "I've got to secure the ship before we can leave."

  He picked up the box of ammunition and walked toward the hatch. She watched until he was gone. He was taking all this a lot better than she thought he would.

  Lawrence walked away from the ship filling his gun belt from the box. When he finished that, he loaded and holstered the gun. A 44-40 was black power. It was designed to use the same round as the Seventy-three Winchester rifle. A man wouldn't have to carry two different cartridges. Ballisticlly, it stunk.

  He reached down, lifted the gun out of the holster and let it drop back. In less than a breath he drew and cocked the pistol. He let the hammer down and twirled it back into the holster; He drew and cocked it again.

  "Looks impressive, but can you hit anything with it?" She was standing behind him carrying her bag and a canteen.

  He looked over his shoulder, then to his left and right. He pointed to his right. "See the sapling?" There was a small sapling about thirty feet to his right.

  She watched as he squared up on the little tree. He paused for a second, then drew and fired. The blast echoed through the trees. She turned away from the report, holding her ears. The tree was severed. The top half flew into the air. He fanned a second shot. The top half was splintered and flew into the brush. He looked at the gun in his hand.